14. Ryan
Y ou don’t have to like me to enjoy what I can do for you. In fact, it’s better that you don’t.
After lying in bed for two hours, replaying those words while a countdown clock to next Saturday’s flight ticked inside my head, I must have snapped because this is insane .
I’m trying not to shake and probably failing miserably. I don’t want Ronan to know how nervous I am. Heck, I’m always nervous around him. He’s one of those intimidating guys—tall, dark, and ominous, with his piercing eyes and his wicked smile and that swagger.
But right now, standing naked in front of him, his burning gaze searing my body, his face full of shock, I feel like my legs are ready to give out.
I work hard to keep my figure lean and hard and healthy but I will never win when pitted against the long legs and trim torsos and slender hips of women like Eliza’s.
The kind of bodies Ronan likes, if the naked girl who fell into my bed last Friday is any indication.
Ronan groans, his hands settling on his forehead. “Ryan, I can’t …”
My stomach drops. I can’t believe this. I’m standing naked in front of Ronan—a guy who fucked around with three different women in one night last weekend—and he’s turning me down. Have I totally misread him?
With my face on fire, I dive for my T-shirt and make to run from his room.
He can move awfully fast, though, for a guy half-awake and sprawled out in bed.
I make it all the way to the door before his giant, calloused hand slams against it, stopping me from escape. “I didn’t say that I didn’t want to.”
“It sure seems like it.” I despise the sound of my voice, brimming with rejection.
He steps in close behind me, pinning my chest to the cool door, his body heat searing my skin. “Does it feel like it?” He presses his hard length into my back.
I can’t help the gasp. I got a good look at his dick as it swelled under my gaze. I’ve only been with three other guys and none of them compared to Ronan’s size.
It’s not just his lower extremity either. It’s all of him—his solid muscles and ridges, his height, the way his forearms naturally tense as he moves. He’s a ten on anyone’s scale.
I steel my nerve. “Well then, what’s the problem? I thought you said you wanted this.” I may come off as confident, but I’ve never been forward when it comes to sex. I’ve never propositioned a guy. The fact I even came in here tonight is pure recklessness.
Pushing my hair to the side, he leans over and settles his lips on my nape, his tongue grazing me ever so gently, sending shivers all the way down to my core.
I make to turn, to face him, wanting to see his chiseled muscles, feel how hard his chest and stomach are beneath my fingertips. But strong arms seize my hips, keeping me in place as his bare foot slides in between mine, gently prodding my legs farther apart.
“I’m leaving for Alaska next weekend,” he whispers .
“I know. It’s perfect.” It was probably the biggest factor in my wild decision to come here tonight.
Ronan chuckles. The depth of his voice against my spine makes me shudder.
I hold my breath as his hands slide from my hips, one traveling upward to cup my breast, the other moving lower to rest along the inside of my thigh, his thumb smoothing over my skin.
“Okay, just this once. But I can’t give you more than that.
This won’t turn into anything. I mean, it can’t. I’m …” His voice drifts.
He’s still in love with his ex-girlfriend.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “You honestly think I’m looking for a commitment?
I don’t even like you, remember?” That’s not entirely true.
Sure, I was angry with Connor. And when I first saw Ronan—all dark and gorgeous six-foot-something of him, towering over me—I immediately wrote him off.
But Ronan also tried to make me feel better about being dumped and apologized to me when I was being a bitch to him, overreacting over a towel because it was either that or burst into tears.
Most important, though, he’s right: I don’t have to like him to enjoy sex with him. At least this way, my heart won’t get tangled with emotion.
And maybe sleeping with Ronan will erase the overwhelming rejection I’m drowning in, the feelings of inadequacy that I’ve woken up to and fallen asleep with since I found out David dumped me for a tall, willowy blond. I’d do anything to stop feeling this pain, even if for just a night.
As it turns out, anything includes sleeping with my hot pig of a roommate.
I inhale sharply as Ronan’s hand shifts to cup between my legs, his thumb sliding over my clit. I’m already wet for him and, with each pass, growing more so. But any embarrassment I feel quickly evaporates under his touch .
“For someone who’s disgusted by me, you have a funny way of showing it.” He leans forward until his face fits into the crook of my neck, just far enough that his hot breath skates over my skin. And then he pushes one finger deep inside.
A sigh escapes my lips.
“I wondered what you would feel like.”
He did? I close my eyes as my senses go into overdrive. “And?”
He slips a second finger in, stretching me as his thumb draws circles. “You’re even softer and tighter than I expected.” His mouth closes over my earlobe and he bites down gently. “Definitely no teeth in here.”
I’m struggling to stay on my feet as the heat between my legs intensifies. If he’s this skilled with his hands and his mouth …
I want to turn around, to touch him. To kiss him. Badly.
Suddenly, I’m off my feet and cradled in his arms, being carried to his bed.
With ease and speed I don’t expect, he has me on my back.
I watch in a mute state of shock as he pulls a condom from his bedside drawer, tears the foil package with his teeth, and rolls the condom on, all with smooth precision.
Seizing me by the thighs, he pulls my body to meet his.
And then he’s pushing in.
I gasp at the intrusion as I stretch around him, my heart hammering in my chest. From the moment I entertained this crazy decision to now couldn’t have been more than five minutes and yet here we are.
It’s like some weird out-of-body experience.
There is no way Responsible Ryan would stroll into her new roommate’s room in the middle of the night and demand—beg for?
—sex. This is a different version of me, a careless version.
And I must admit, she’s enjoying this.
Ronan’s muscles strain beautifully with each hip roll, until he’s filling me completely.
He pauses, grins devilishly at me, sprawled out and exposed before him. “You good?”
“Yes,” I manage. Am I? Or have I gone completely insane? Am I going to regret this?
“Get out of your head for a bit, Ryan,” he warns softly, as if he can read my mind.
“Okay,” I squeak.
Adjusting his grip on my thighs, he thrusts in and out, the bed creaking with each move, the headboard banging against the wall.
It’s as noisy as the night he was with that woman he picked up at the club.
I try not to think about that right now.
I’m nothing like her. Almost as an act of defiance, I press my lips together, intent to not let myself sound like her.
“Fuck,” he groans, cords of muscles tensing.
He’s so deep, and he keeps hitting one spot each time he goes in. It’s not entirely comfortable.
“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing,” he promises, his heated gaze trailing from my face to my breasts, down to where we’re joined.
And he must, because with each stroke against that spot, my body opens to him, the dull ache turning into something entirely pleasurable.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs through ragged breaths.
I am. And offering no resistance to him anymore. It’s almost embarrassing. I’ll never be able to deny my attraction again.
Ronan shifts one arm to splay a hand across my pelvis, pressing down slightly as his thumb starts rubbing my clit.
I can’t help the low moan that escapes.
“That’s it, Ryan. I know you’re not shy.” He suddenly changes his tactics, rolling his hips rather than thrusting.
It brings out a second, lower moan from me, unbidden. This view of him—naked and confident and between my legs—might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I can feel the beginnings of an orgasm deep in the pit of my stomach, the blood flowing fast to my core.
Ronan grips both my thighs again, lifting my hips a little higher, squeezing a little harder as he changes his rhythm, plunging into me hard and fast. I’ve only ever come during sex once—during a rare night of no inhibitions when my then boyfriend and I smoked a joint and everything was a major turn-on.
I’m dead sober now, but the sight of Ronan’s body, straining and glistening, his dark, lustful gaze locked on me, pumping in and out—the very idea that a guy like this, who could have any woman he wanted, is going to come because of me …
I don’t care if I sound like that drunk idiot from the other night as the rush of blood hits my nerve endings and my muscles tighten around him. I cry out, bucking against him where we’re joined.
Ronan’s head falls back, his sharp Adam’s apple jutting out from his strong neck, and he groans as the muscles in his stomach tense. I feel him pulse inside me, his thrusts slowing until they’ve stopped altogether.
Our panting breaths fill the silence in the room.
Now what?
If he were my boyfriend, this is where he would lie down beside me. We’d kiss, I’d nuzzle my nose in his neck, I’d draw patterns along his chest, I’d ask him if he enjoyed that.
But this is Ronan.
My new roommate, my brother’s friend, an outdoor crew guy, a man whore. A guy I had sex with for the soul purpose of forgetting my ex. A guy who’s still in love with his ex.
I can’t believe I just had sex with him.
He slides out of me and checks the condom—I assume for holes. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls it off and reaches for a tissue.
I use that opportunity to bolt, grabbing my T-shirt on the way to the door. “Good night.” I duck out without a backward glance, not breathing until I’m behind my closed bedroom door.
My forehead hits my wall as a wave of shame washes over me.
Oh my God.
What have I done?